Enjoy the Silence
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK- 'He wasn’t sure why he was talking to England when he was sleeping, and drunk on top of it. Maybe that was why, though. He could say these things to him, knowing that England wouldn’t remember any of it come the next morning.'


**Enjoy the Silence**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

"All right, England! Here we are, home sweet home!" America declared cheerfully as he shoved England's front door open with his shoulder, his arms too busy supporting the completely hammered England.

"Haaa? You bastard, who said you could come into my house?" England asked the air in front of him, and hiccupped as he stumbled inside.

"_You_ did, remember?" America said brightly and hoisted England up. "Let's get you to bed!"

England mumbled incoherently as he was carried unceremoniously up the stairs and deposited on his bed. America sat down on the bed next to him to make sure he fell asleep without incident.

"Nnn. France, you bastard. The Channel Tunnel doesn't mean anything," England babbled and kicked off his shoes.

"Of course it doesn't. Go to sleep, all right?"

"I'll do what I want! And I want another of those mudslide things." England tried to sit up, but was pushed right back down by America.

"Stubborn old man, just go to sleep," America said. He was finding it hard to hide his irritation now. England didn't seem to even be aware that it was America he was with, but maybe that was for the best since he was tired of hearing the "I hate you for leaving me" tirade.

"Don't you speak to the British Empire that way! I'll…sink yer ships," England slurred with a half-hearted shake of his fist.

"I'd like to see you try," America scoffed in return. Hopefully England wouldn't actually do anything, he didn't feel like tying him up again.

England blinked at him, then his eyes widened as if a light abruptly clicked on in his head. "America~" His tone was sing-song as he struggled to sit up straight. When he did, he dropped his head on America's shoulder, America stiffening slightly at the contact. England's expression was wistful and besotted, both with drink and with America.

"Hey, America. I wanna let you in on a secret," he giggled in between hiccups. America stayed carefully still. "Did you know? Did you know that I-" He abruptly stopped speaking, his eyes sliding shut as he fell backwards onto his bed and started snoring.

America rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair in embarrassment on England's behalf.

"…that you love me? Yeah, I've always known. You don't hide it that well, you know."

He wasn't sure why he was talking to England when he was sleeping, and drunk on top of it. Maybe that was why, though. He could say these things to him, knowing that England wouldn't remember any of it come the next morning. He stared down at the sleeping nation, whose face was almost pleasant in sleep. Not stuck in a perpetual scowl, not trying to mask his feelings with irritation, just calm. America stared down at his folded hands.

"The problem is, why am I in love with you? It's not like you have any redeeming qualities," America thought out loud. If he was saying things he wouldn't normally say to England now, he might as well get it all out.

He felt England stir and turned to look at him, said nation's brows furrowing in anger as if he'd understood what America just said to him. "You'll pay for that, Spain…" he mumbled and then fell still again.

"Obstinate old man. Pain in the ass. If you didn't act like you're so superior to everyone all the time, more people might like you. I think I'd be better off if I'd never fallen in love with you."

England's face contorted in sadness and he whimpered. America chuckled slightly and smoothed the hair back from England's eyes, England relaxing slightly at the touch.

"Don't worry. It's not like I can go back and change things. Besides, I don't think I could stop loving you even if I wanted to, and believe, sometimes I _really_ want to." He accentuated the last remark with a pointed look at the sleeping England.

"You have to say it first though, with a clear head, not when you're drunk. If I say it first, it won't be the same. Sure, it may seem like the result would be the same, but I know it wouldn't be. You have to say it first because you have to stop being frightened and acknowledge that it's possible for me to love you, too."

England snorted in his sleep and squirmed slightly. America sighed.

"You really are a stubborn, pain in the ass of an old man," America groaned and rubbed his temples with one hand. He pulled his hand away and regarded England for a moment. He swallowed and moved slowly, leaning over the sleeping form and bending forward. His lips nearly brushed England's, but then he thought better of it and bit his lip. England chose that moment to roll over.

"Stupid America…" he murmured, and America really had to wonder if England had understood everything that had just been said and done.

America stood, mentally chastising himself for getting so carried away, and reached over to ruffle England's hair before he turned to leave.

"Good night, England," he said, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.


End file.
